


Nightmares

by DisenchantedHelena



Series: Nightmares [1]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 'Taking care of myself? Not getting shot? What's that?' -Peter Parker, Gen, I swear it relates to the plot)), May is dead oops sorry, Peter Has Nightmares, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Turning this into a series owo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 05:11:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17698274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisenchantedHelena/pseuds/DisenchantedHelena
Summary: He jolted up with a gasp, the feeling of being suffocated lingered as he inhaled. His hand clenched around the his blanket as he trembled. It was getting worse. He thought if he waited long enough they'd go away. He tried online tips. He'd reduced his obscene caffeine consumption, he'd let himself relax before he went to bed, he'd attempted a regular sleep pattern (which was hard with Spider-Man duties). And yet night after night he felt like he was turning slowly to ash or being suffocated under a collapsed building, or May or Ben were dying right in front of him again, blaming him. His teammates, his family, dead, all because of him.Maybe this wasn't as simple as he had hoped it would be..





	Nightmares

Peter slipped off his mask, rubbing his eyes and yawning. He glanced at the time. 9:45 pm, right on track. He'd only had half a cup of coffee today and he'd started patrol right after homework. These tips didn't seem to work, but once in a blue moon he got a pleasant dream. It was better than nothing. He put his suit in his closet, wrapped up some of his more severe wounds, thankfully nothing more than a few slashes and bruises, they'd heal quickly. He slipped into a baggy shirt and put on music to sleep to before letting his eyes close, silently wishing that he'd finally be able to sleep. 

_Darkness surrounded him, the thick sent of metal and dust in the air, tinged with blood. He attempted to move his limbs, a flash of pain jolting through him as he cried out. Warehouse. Vulture. He didn't have his tech-filled, useful suit. Only his makeshift hoodie and goggles. He felt rubble press down on him, heard something that sounded like running water._

_"Hello?" His voice was weak and scratchy as he coughed on the dust that made it into his mouth. No answer. He swore quietly and attempted to see clearly in the shadowy area. He gagged as the smell of blood intensified, his arm moving. The air was hot and stiffling as he tried to find his way out. His left arm was the most painful. He assumed it was caught under the rubble._

_"H...Hello?! I'm stuck!" He wailed, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. It was getting harder to breathe. How long had he been trapped for? He closed his eyes, muffling his sobs as he bit his bottom lip, struggling as much as he could, ignoring the pain flaring through his body._

_He heard a loud shift of the rubble above him, eyes widening as he saw a large slab falling towards him. He felt it collide with him before it all went dark._

He jolted up with a gasp, the feeling of being suffocated lingered as he inhaled. His hand clenched around the his blanket as he trembled. It was getting worse. He thought if he waited long enough they'd go away. He tried online tips. He'd reduced his obscene caffeine consumption, he'd let himself relax before he went to bed, he'd attempted a regular sleep pattern (which was hard with Spider-Man duties). And yet night after night he felt like he was turning slowly to ash or being suffocated under a collapsed building, or May or Ben were dying right in front of him again, blaming him. His teammates, his family, dead, all because of him. 

"Mr. Parker," he jumped, turning to the ceiling. "It appears you are in distress. Should I-" He tensed. He couldn't whine to the Avengers about _dreams_! They had their own problems, he didn't need to add to those. Besides, he could work through them on his own. 

"No, FRIDAY, I...I'm fine." He mumbled, voice soft, though the AI seemed to hear it anyways. He let his head hit his pillow, rubbing his eyes. He wasn't going to cry over a stupid dream. He had bigger things to deal with. It wasn't like the Avengers hadn't dealt with worse! He should be able to get over these things! 

He quietly stood, walking to his desk and pulling open one of the bottom drawers, pulling out a picture. It was of a younger him, and May and Ben. Alive. Smiling. Happy. He fought back his tears as he ran a hand over May's face. He checked the time on his clock. 12:10 am. Not even three hours of sleep. Usually he simply exhausted himself, his body needing more sleep than he usually got naturally. He walked into the conjoined bathroom to his room, opening his medicine cabinet and pulling out a bottle of sleeping pills. He took a small handful, due to his metabolism, and then padded back to his bed. 

Nightmares or not, he was getting at least two more hours. He let his eyes slowly close, slipping out of consciousness.


End file.
